screams of the innocent
by shadow08
Summary: once your hands have been stained with blood, you can never get them out. never. especially if you spill the blood of an innocent, for their blood is purest and their screams loudest... and their screams shall haunt you forever...


**A/n: just a little something I had to get out of my system… I was bored…anyways, enjoy.**

**OoO**

Blood. Blood of the innocent stained the ground. Flames filled the air with smoke and intermingled itself with the screams echoing around. Masked men, tall and menacing sauntered around. They were holding pieces of wood and were shooting rays of bright light all around.

_Harsh laughter now permeated through the smoky air._

_All around them children could be heard crying. Harsh laughter and tortured shrieks rung through the night. Jets of green light flew from the masked men. Those that got hit crumpled to the ground, eyes wide open, dead._

_One man in particular drew closer to a small child. The little girl stared up at the prowling figure, wide-eyed with fear. The man in the mask raised his wand, and pointed it at the child muttering. The child's screams echoed throughout the perimeter as she howled and twisted in pain and agony._

_Tears coursed down her cheeks, and she wished for the end to come swiftly, for nothing would compare to such pain. Then, as the figure's soft voice reached her pain-laden ears, she felt the rush of death and the peaceful bliss that came to relieve her of the pain._

_And she was gone…_

_The masked figure took off his mask to reveal a large hooked nose, inky black eyes and pale skin. Looking down on his newly deceased target, his lips curled into a slow smile and he succumbed to the mirth that overtook him._

_His laughter ringing out through the now still night air just like the echoing screams of that little girl…_

Back in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the same man woke up from his putrid dreams with a start. He was shivering, drenched in cold sweat. Severus Snape, former Death-Eater, and now Potions Master of the school stood up from his bed and walked over to a small table.

He picked up his wand and tapped a small kettle on said table and steam issued from its spout. Once the water had come to a boil, he poured himself some of it into a mug and proceeded to make himself some coffee.

Over the course of the years, Severus had learned that when haunted by that particular dream, coffee was the best way to escape sleep. It was true that he had been a death eater; it was a truth that was as real as the mark on his arm, and equally as inescapable. Equally as haunting…

He sat down on an armchair in front of the fireplace and stared at the crackling flames, recalling his dream, where the same flames consumed the houses of the people of the town. How he had destroyed that little girl… with her brown hair and innocent stare…full of fear… he recalled, as he sat there, the way her shrill voice filled the air with ear-splitting shrieks…how her small, tortured body squirmed and twisted in pain…

He gave another involuntary shiver and put the mug to his lips, allowing the warm liquid to trickle down his throat.

He still remembered the day he had become a death-eater of course. He had been fresh out of Hogwarts… still reckless, young, and foolhardy… there had been a party that night at his favorite pub, the Three Broomsticks. He still recalled how he had seen the dark figure in the corner, alone. He recalled clearly how he had joined him, having no real friends himself, and how they had gotten deep into conversation. He recalled in vivid detail how he had become one of his followers, and finding that he enjoyed the torture and devastation he brought to others.

Until…

Until that day when he killed that little girl… true he had laughed… but her face and her screams echoed in his dreams that night when he got home. And it still did. After that, the screams of the innocent came back to him and haunted his ears. The hands of the mangled people they had slaughtered closed around him as if to torment him. To show him that in the end, this was his fate. That in the long run, any one of those that killed them could have been in their place.

Their screams and cries echoed in his dreams over and over again until he thought they would never stop.

Then, he met her…

In all his years at Hogwarts, Severus had never really had friends. He had enemies, in the form of James Potter and his crew, but nothing more. He had been taught to dislike all muggle borns and that was what he did. He had always been a loner and that earned him an air of weirdness that persisted even unto his own house.

Perhaps, had he been a little more open, a little more amiable, the Dark Lord's web wouldn't have ensnared him. Perhaps then he would not be tormented by the screams of the innocent.

But that had not mattered when he met her.

Years after that night when he killed the little girl, he was strolling along in Diagon Alley under the pretence of browsing through the shops. He had been on his way out of a shop when he bumped into a woman. And a rather attractive woman at that. She had long brown tresses and warm brown eyes.

He winced as he remembered how he had spilt a vile smelling potion on her. It was a particularly complex potion that would stain horribly if spilt on clothes. Apologizing profusely, he had offered to buy her dinner to compensate for her robe.

Florence Walters…tat was her name.

Severus was enchanted by everything about her. She was smart, classy, amusing and understanding. She was muggle born but just then. It suddenly ceased to matter. As he got to know her, the importance of blood didn't quite matter to Snape anymore. He no longer agreed with that principle because he knew, _this_ was quality.

He told no one of their relationship of course. For fear of her safety, should they go public. She was a muggle born and therefore in danger from the crowd he had sworn allegiance to. But the time he spent with her was possibly the happiest he had ever felt in his life. She was everything he needed, and more. When he was with her, the screams of the innocent seemed to die down, and he was able to think clearly.

Severus felt a bitter tang in the coffee as he remembered Florence's tragic demise. She had been visiting a friend in a small town. She would be gone for a week and Snape was busy preparing his surprise for her return. He had been meticulously planning the moment for weeks. He had bought the ring, made arrangements for the dinner. Everything was to be perfect. He was going to propose to the girl he loved.

Then, on the eve before her return, he paced his study nervously. Doubts gnawed at him…second thoughts, fears. But he thought of Florence's beautiful face and he slept, knowing that he was doing the right thing.

The next day, when he woke up, sunlight streamed through the windows as an owl hooted softly carrying the morning paper. He paid the bird and unrolled the news. Staring at him was a glittering mobile picture of the dark mark, _His_ mark above a town. His eyes frantically pored over the article and gasped.

Tears stung his eyes, as the newspaper fell from his grasp. Sobs racked his body as anguished screams shook the room.

Florence Walters was dead.

The very people Severus Snape had sworn his allegiance to had killed her. The screams of the innocents had returned, and this time the voice of his love was among them. For it had been his fault that she was dead. It was his carelessness that had cost her, her life. If only he had been more thorough and been there to protect her. But he hadn't. And she was gone.

Once again Severus' dreams were filled with screaming little girls. But this time, just as he finished laughing, he saw Florence. Her body mangled and bloody, her eyes open, staring at him in a horrified stare.

It was enough to send anyone to the brink of sanity. But Severus knew that death was not the answer. Not even in death could he escape the piteous moans and shrieks of the innocent. He had gone back to Hogwarts; straight to the man the dark lord feared the most. He confessed everything he had done in life; the horrible deed of torture and destruction; the mark and finally Florence's death.

The old man's penetrating light blue gaze offered Severus a comfort that he though he'd never feel again. Smiling slightly, he had turned to Severus. "I believe you'll be needing a job," he had said.

And with that one sentence, his new life had begun.

For years he had been able to live quietly, ignoring the cries of the innocents and resisting sleep when old dreams haunted him. But now, they had gotten worse.

Everyday since Harry Potter's class arrived at Hogwarts, the dreams had returned with a vengeance. But it was not because of the Potter boy.

No…

It was because of her…

That innocent face that reminded him so much of two females…

Her brown hair and eyes…so warm like Florence's… her intelligence and wit…

Oh he hated Hermione Granger alright…

Because she was the embodiment of everything that little girl could have been, had she been spared.

Smart, hardworking and attractive…

It was almost as if the brainy Gryffindor were purposefully reminding him of the heights that little girl would have reached if she were still alive, if he hadn't _killed_ her.

But he hated her even more whenever he remembered Florence and how the little brat was like the woman he loved. For Florence was intelligent, oh yes, she was. And she was understanding, funny and brave exactly like the insufferably know-it-all of Gryffindor was known to be.

Severus drained his mug and put it onto the table for the house elves to clean. He stood up and started to prepare for the lessons he had that day.

With a heavy sigh, he resigned himself to another day of torment, not from the hateful mutters and looks he received from the students of Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor but from the echoing screams of the innocent that would undoubtedly ring in his ears when he saw that brat again, later today.

**A/n: let me just make it clear that Snape is not romantically interested with Hermione. I don't like that airing as it gives me the creeps. I mean, hello, pedophilia anyone? So Snape does _not_ like our favorite bushy haired Gryffindor. He hates her in fact, because he reminds him constantly of the horrific deed he's done and of the girl he failed to protect.**


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